[17th January 2009]

[Camden, London]

I was tired, really tired, but my bestest buddy in the whole wide world right now, coffee, was there to rescue me for a few moments as I walked back outside a late open corner shop with its lovely scent in my nostrils. And wonderful warm too on this cold and miserable January night here in London outside as a group of us stood outside said random corner shop. These nice Pakistani people apparently ran it, I like them as they had given me a nice coffee and fresh packet sandwich without being assholes like most of the scumbags in the area right now; the counter girl (the owner's daughter? sister?) friendliness and being pretty helped with my mood. At least as far as having to deal with John fucking Constantine and the long, long, long day that I'd just come from...and the continuation of which I was facing into right now...

"Here, take yer pick and let's get going I guess..." I managed to mutter handing in the bag of sandwiches and drinks into the others as I hopped into the car "...long bloody night ahead after all?"

Really when I'd thought of a top secret mission, with danger and high stakes, I had not thought of being driven around in the back of a London cab after buying gods-damned sandwiches in the dark of night. Nor did the run up that major excitement involved hours upon hours of frantic meetings and phone with unhappy people in high places about arranging a spur of the moment mission to England...because a demon had possessed the Prince of Wales after the screwing up by Satan worshipping idiot members of the British Establishment during a demon summon ritual. Oh that had gone down so feckin well with O'Mahon and then the Cabinet. Because every nation state just wanted to hear that their neighbours with nukes were run by a bunch of crazy cultists...who were also disastrously incompetent at their evil-doing to boot.

Meaning till the problem was dealt with there was no one they could reach out to in the United Kingdom on short notice for fear they were compromised too. The problem needed to be 'fixed' first and then worry about disclosure. Oh...and the only effective rapid response right now was a teenage wizard, a former English mental patient, said mental patient's Irish mate who sold his soul for wine, and three Army Rangers (who like the teenage wizard) really, really, shouldn't be doing black ops missions in the United Kingdom. Especially when said mission had been thrown together in a rather hurried manner that meant they got to around their secret blacktops demon banishing in a rental car and another driven by a cab driving friend of said former trenchcoat mental patient. Truly...was this was not the quest-line of champions?

It also reminded me why John bloody Constantine could grate so fucking much on one's patience and nerves at times. To get me to speak to my bosses the 'get in the door' omission to me was we only initially needed to find out who the killer was...which had morphed very rapidly into having already done said séance and we were already very much at that 'had confirmation, shits about to go down' stage. No, good auld John had already dregged up a psychic mate of his and held the séance that revealed that 'hey you're up against a murder demon boyo' and it was now time to get 'help' from outside. Ie. Me and the other gobshites willing to associate with him. So here I was sitting in a taxi cab alongside John, his mate Chas, Cpt. McKenna and Sgt. Macklin in civilian gear as the vehicle moved away from the curb with the second car with the others inside following along behind.

"Can't believe yer hungry goin' into this mate? Not easy on the stomach what're about ta see ya know?" Constantine muttered at me from the front of the cab. I opened up my own sandwich, took a bite and glared back at him a moment before finally replying into the silence.

"I dunno, maybe I'm hungry because some fecker rang me during my dinner and caused me to have meetings all night, followed by a flight, over to visit him and his problems eh? Now let us eat our bloody sandwiches and go back over everything you know as we drive"

Because information was rather sparse right now on what exactly was going on; making this operation a desperate last minute organisational affair at its very best. Even the fact we we're going to a meeting with people who had no idea that we'd become involved in this giant mess wasn't exactly a positive sign, let alone the fact we going to a place where a lot of very rich and powerful people aired their perverse and sadistic fetishes. Though...in all honest I half suspect that this very fact was a positive factor in contributing to this desperate deployment (baring, ya know, the possible Demon King of England and his Satanic Legions...) as one might be able to get backups of some footage for later negotiations...

One thing that concerned me, as much as my superiors, was the involvement of this Sir Peter Marston in attempting to conceal it. Worrying of course because Sir Peter was a pretty high up within their civil service and had easy access to the Prime Minister and the British Cabinet. Of course the fact he was utilising John Constantine and trying to keep this off the books indicated that official channels weren't really available for anything more than information suppression.

Course that information was likely to be violent and bloody consider this giant scandal...but that's what the teleport spell and bag of holding filled with guns were for in need be. Beyond my own personal desire to not get dead or in a British prison there was of course getting caught in this mess would not be a good idea internationally. A risk they were willing to take it seemed considering Armies of Hell and all the jazz. Evidently that rebel song was right and the devil had, in fact, joined the British Army. Go figure.

Whatever the case the plan now was to meet Sir Peter Marston and a witness to the summoning named Hezlet in this Caligula Club, ie the wretched hive of scum and villainy that proved why we we're glad to have left the 'Happy Union' a near century ago. John continued the tale as we drove, all which pretty much detailed a pretty disgusting and vile place that'd probably not be out of place in old Menzoberranzan all those years ago across space and time. Hopefully we managed to make it through visiting this place without killing everyone inside for being absolute fucking monsters and then burning the place to the ground for the good of everybody in the world that wasn't them...sigh...oh for to use that actual plan...

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[17th January 2009] [2Hours]

[Caligula Club, London]

...it was just as bad as I'd expected/feared as myself and Sgt. Macklin followed along behind John and the bouncer of this fucked up funland towards the 'private room' of Sir Peter Marston. In disguise of course for myself and the good sergeant since we were both kitted out in full combat gear in case this whole situation turned wrong.

Or the need to burn this wretched hive of vileness to the ground should the need arrive, or I just needed to vent at the disgust and anger rising up inside me. But I could be a professional about this, yes I could, so I kept my head down like the teenage welsh psychic I was pretending to be and trudged along as we neared the office. It seemed Sir Peter looked as respectable as the pictures on his file showed, rather impressive considering the right bastard he seemed to be in actuality. At least he seemed both highly stressed and angry as he hissed at Constantine as soon as the door closed behind us.

"What is this Constantine? You are to be discrete about this you imbecile and here you are bringing in these two to our business?"

John gave a rather uninterested seeming shrug "Look, Nigel's gone to ground an' we need a bloomin' psychic if we're to make this work, or would you prefer is' grace' continue around with 'is bloody passenger inside him would you?"

A dismissive glance at myself and the disguised sergeant "A boy and some muscle?"

Macklin snorted and folded his arms across his illusion covered chest "Oi, me little mate ere' got all the magic ye need for doin' yer magic mojo. Don' dun care what ya'll up ta' long as we gettin' our cut of de dough when de job is done. Arite Johnny boy?"

Sir Peter frowned slightly for a moment then nodded to himself seemingly as Constantine made a placating gesture towards our disguised duo "Look mate, you and he will get paid right? Just do the job an' everything turn out best fer all of us?"

"Yes, yes, indeed..." that posh upper class English accent once again gesture that of a man dealing with a servant as he turned back to Constantine after a glance at us"...you shall be compensated for your services my good man. The Crown will always look favourably upon those who serve it loyally regardless of their...background. You have explained the requirement for discreteness I assume?"

"Look, they can keep their mouths shut if that what ya mean, have to in this line of business let's say..." John was saying before a whisper of a voice in the ear of my mask distracted me a moment. Our back up team across from the building as a mixture of reserve and over-watch while us three entered the club as the main team for the meeting. Primarily because attempting to enter in such numbers would have gotten us nowhere and revealed our hand far too early.

"Shadow-02; Activity at entrance, unknown but appeared to be an altercation. Door now closed again"

I made no reaction to as the conversation between Constantine and Marston continued as we were largely treated like hired help by the civil servant. It was a...

A knock at the door, and an irritated enter brought the head of the bouncer back inside with an indication for Sir Peter to come with him for some reason. Most likely to do with whatever Shadow-02 had witnessed occurring a few moments ago I expected. The 'gentleman' civil servant moved towards the door as the burly security man opened it for him as he glanced back towards our trio as he moved to leave.

"Someone appears to be causing a commotion and must be reminded of the etiquette of this fine establishment. Remain here and I shall return in but a moment after reminding them of good manners"

'Etiquette? Fucking demon summoning perverts and he speaks of etiquette and manners! Gods above us but does this place need an 'accidental' gas leak!' I thought darkly as I glanced at the door closing behind him. Then back at the form of Constantine who was...

I sighed. Mere seconds gone by and already he was rifling through the man's desk. Granted I'd have done the same in a bit but damned if those weren't trained reflexes there. No way was I allowing him alone near any of my unwarded...any...of my stuff without someone watching him and sticky fingers; man was a natural born Bard or Thief/Mage combo frankly. Macklin at least was taking position nearer the door as I surveyed the rest of the room for anything that seemed out of place. Marston might be the lowest form of scum but he had nice taste in office furniture. Our resident thief was there to interrupt that line of thought as his lock-picking skills delivered something of interest to him after a few moments.

"Well, well lookie what we got ere' lads, pages of the Grimorum Verum all about our new mate Calibraxis, seems the guvnor ere' may be a little more involved in all this that he'd like seems to me..."

What sounded scream snapped my head away from John and towards the door and a disguised Macklin who'd aleady made a motion towards us to remain where we were as he leaned back at the wall and began to edge the door open ever so slightly. Then after a moment close it back near silently as what sounded another scream echoed in from the hallway outside. It seemed...well our cover might no longer be as necessary as we'd hoped it would be as Macklin moved towards us.

"Definite movement from the main foyer and those screams have sounds of running feet and struggle nearby, so arm up time and prep for fighting our way out of here"

"Well let me bring out my Magic Murder Bag then shall I?..." Venture Brothers heh. Or maybe the tiredness was making my less fearful than I really should be right now as I brought out the hidden back of holding and laid it on the table and extracted one pistol and then another...

...then froze. Something tingled. I could feel...

Oh...oh that wasn't good...not at-all-at-all it weren't. Plan B time.

I handed Macklin his weapon and extracted my staff urgently and getting a glanced from both of them.

"Ugh, think our demon is right the fuck here now fellas. Cuz something really bad is coming right this way.."

His hand moved up to his earpiece and communicator hidden under the illusion "Shadow 01: Position maybe compromised. Prepare for immediate storm and evac"

I tapped the butt of my staff off of the ground and drew upon my strength with a faint chant. Protection from Evil was such a useful spell in these circumstances I found...

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